


Gaza

by fawatson



Category: Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 03:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fawatson/pseuds/fawatson
Summary: Hephaistion and Alexander during the siege of Gaza.





	Gaza

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forochel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/gifts).



> **Request:** All i want is them happy, in canon -- in an AU ... just ... happy times.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters and make no profit by them. 
> 
> **Author’s Notes:** Alexander besieged Gaza on his way to Egypt. It took him five months to capture the city. He placed Hephaistion in charge of his fleet (bringing siege engines) while he brought the army by land. The city’s commander, Batis, withdrew behind high walls, well provisioned to withstand a long siege. Alexander constructed a great earthwork surrounding the city walls, and placed siege engines to the south where he perceived a weakness in the walls’ defences. He consulted the auguries which foretold victory but warned him to be careful of his personal safety. When Batis’ men made a sortie to attack the siege engines, Alexander who had been staying to the rear, joined them at the front of the battle and was wounded in the shoulder. He fought on until he fainted from blood loss. Arrian says the wound “did not easily yield to treatment”. After three attempts to breach the walls, the city was captured. However, Batis refused to kneel to Alexander and accounts say he was haughty and proud. Alexander executed him by having him dragged beneath the city walls behind a chariot.

Prologue

As was often the case, Hephaistion woke first. Unlike Alexander, he did not open his eyes, alert and ready for business; but gradually loosened the arms of Hypnos, lids reluctant to peel back from his eyes, but with an awareness of the start of the day beginning to percolate through his brain. He snuggled into the warm back before him, his left arm loosely curled round the hard muscled torso, conscious of a slight cramp in his right shoulder where he cradled Alexander’s head. His muscles demanded he shift position; but his contentment commanded he remain where he was, enjoying the slightly sweaty smell of his companion, who slept trustingly in his arms. Sleeping, not unconscious. There was a world of difference between the two: Gaza had not been easy on Alexander. Hephaistion remembered when he had looked forward eagerly to his first sight of the city. In the end he had run the gamut of emotions at Gaza: hope, bone-chilling fear, and bitter fury. It was one city he would be glad to see the back of. 

Hope

Hephaistion knew Alexander would have look-outs posted, and a runner would have been despatched when the sails were first sighted. Whether that meant he would be at the docks to greet the ships was another matter. Alexander had brought the bulk of his army by land, would surely have arrived first, and was not the kind of man to waste time waiting. He may have sworn when they were youths that he would not go to _war_ without his friend; but that did not mean Alexander would not do _battle_ without him.

Of course, it was not beyond all possibility that Gaza had surrendered at first sight of the Macedonians, though Hephaistion thought that unlikely given the reputation of its commander. Batis was both competent and loyal to Darius; and it wasn’t as if he had had no warning. More likely than surrender, then, would be a quick outcome to battle. Hephaistion did not doubt that Alexander had initiated the siege when he first arrived. Perhaps there had been a sortie from the city which had gone wrong allowing Alexander’s vanguard to force the gates? It might be that the fleet brought siege engines for which there would be no use after all. Hephaistion was impatient to learn the current state of war. He did want Alexander to succeed, of course; but…he rather hoped there would still be something left for _him_ to do. 

The last approach of the fleet toward the harbour was too slow to be borne. Hephaistion cast dignity aside and shimmied up the central mast. He was not disappointed: his friend had ridden down on Boukephalos. The black warhorse half-reared; and he smiled as Alexander turned and cantered back along the road before bringing the stallion back to the seafront. He would be there when they docked. 

Fear

True to the plan, Alexander had remained safely in the rear while Hephaistion directed the emplacement of the great siege engines, steadily and methodically, according to the outline described by his leader. Nevertheless, when he saw a sortie from the city, Alexander dashed forward, true to his nature. The sun glinted off his helmet; and the men saw him standing there with them, and took heart. Hephaistion shrugged; Alexander never spared himself, and there was no point pretending otherwise. It was why men followed him. 

The sortie was a serious effort from the Gaza forces who, fighting for their homes and loved ones, were not about to give in. The two friends fought, back-to-back, swords thrusting. Alexander laughed with the joy of it; and, turning at the sound, Hephaistion caught his eye and grinned. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw one of the catapults, not secured firmly in place, and a squad pushing at it, trying to rock it from side to side, trying to shove it over. 

Alexander leapt toward them, sword arm raised. Hephaistion was only seconds behind.

In horror he saw the catapult missile pierce the top of his friend’s shield. But Alexander merely laughed, and lunged at one of the attackers with renewed energy. They fought side by side, Peukestas to their left and Philotas to their right. Eventually, the attackers gave ground. Philotas pursued; and Hephaistion expected Alexander to follow. Then he saw the king’s step stutter … his sword arm droop … and he slumped. 

Four soldiers caught Alexander before he hit the ground and carried him off the field. It was only after the armour was removed that anyone realised that the missile had pierced his corselet and entered his body. His tunic was ringing wet with blood. 

Alexander lay there, still and white and _silent_. 

“I don’t know,” said the battle surgeon, testily, when asked if the king would live. “Soldiers are supposed to _stop_ when injured, and leave the rest of the fighting to others, not keep going. I cannot be held responsible for keeping the man alive when his own reckless disregard of common sense leads him to take unnecessary risks.

His irritated eyes met Hephaistion’s glowering ones; and he looked away uneasy with a dawning fear. The army would go mad if anything happened to Alexander.

The doctor looked back at the man on the bed. Even unconscious he had an aura of command. “Now we’ve got the bleeding stopped, it’s probably just a matter of giving him time to recover,” he offered hopefully, and then added, “He’ll be cold tonight. I’ll order braziers.”

At the opening to the tent he paused and looked back. Hephaistion was seated on a stool by the king’s bedside, holding his hand. 

“Best way to keep a man warm after he’s lost a lot of blood is by sleeping with him,” he offered gruffly, before he ducked out. 

Fury

They brought him forward, bound (of course) but with dignity, as befitted an honourable enemy. Batis had fought hard. True, he had lost in the end; but victory here had not been a foregone conclusion, given the similar sizes of the two forces, especially when one added the formidable fortifications of Gaza to the equation. Batis was defeated; but he had earned the Macedonians’ respect during the months they had sat outside the city’s walls. 

But the man was obdurate. Stiff-necked fool, thought Hephaistion. Alexander usually treated commanders graciously in these circumstances: they were defeated but not beaten down. However, not only did Batis refuse to bend knee for his city, he refused even to acknowledge Alexander as commander of the Macedonians. His cold eyes looked past Alexander when he was spoken to. Hephaistion watched, his anger growing as a cup of wine was offered by Alexander’s page, only to be ignored. Alexander spoke civilly, poured a fresh cup of wine, and sipped from it himself, to prove it had not been adulterated. Then he offered it to Batis, and received only an open sneer.

Then the defeated commander turned his back. 

Feelings always ran high after battle. The watching guards growled. (There was no other word for it.) _That_ was insupportable insult. But, well-trained, they waited for a signal from their king. 

With one long gulp, Alexander drank down the cup he had previously offered to Batis. It was not the first celebratory wine he had quaffed; but he showed no sign of unsteadiness as he walked round to face Batis. Swiftly, he backhanded him, sending the older man to his knees. Krateros stepped forward and pulled the man’s head back by his hair. 

“What are your wishes, Alexander?” Hephaistion asked quietly. 

“Have him tied to a chariot and dragged round the walls – perhaps eating dirt will teach him manners,” came the reply before Alexander walked off. 

“To the death, I think, don’t you?” Hephaistion added to Krateros, who smiled in satisfaction. 

“Undoubtedly.”

Epilogue

Brilliant eyes flashed open. There was one brief second when Alexander’s whole being tensed to turn and leap before he recognised the arm holding him close and rolled over instead. 

“Take care,” Hephaistion cautioned, as Alexander raised himself on one elbow, “yesterday reopened your wound and you lost more blood.”

“But not the city.”

“No, not the city.”

“The rest doesn’t matter.” 

“ _You_ matter. You are King and we follow _you_.”

“Of course.”

For Alexander, there was never any doubt. 

“Will you _ever_ heed warnings?” It’s not as if you did not know the risks; it’s not as though there was no other way.” 

There was no heat to Hephaistion’s voice, though. It was not as if _he_ did not know the man he followed. There was a reason Hephaistion had vowed to stay by Alexander’s side to the day he died – the same reason the Macedonians had vowed to serve Alexander … _were_ serving him all these many leagues from home. 

“There is no gainsaying one’s destiny,” reminded Alexander. “Besides, you always have my back.”

He leaned across, pressing his mouth full onto the lips of his trusted companion. Hephaistion relaxed into the kiss, and pulled Alexander close by twining his legs round him. One hand stroked down his torso and cupped his groin. 

“That’s not all I have.” 

Both men’s eyes gleamed.


End file.
